


It's Easier To Be Alone

by Hundan



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Fluff, NCIS - Freeform, Nature of the Beast - Freeform, Random fic, TIVA - Freeform, that attacked danni's brain, we are writing about you again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25181329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hundan/pseuds/Hundan
Summary: It’s easier for him to be alone because that way he’d never lose her. She’d still be his partner and he wouldn’t risk her if their attempt at a relationship didn’t work. That’s why he’d never taken it further, never risked a chance to kiss her or tell her how he really feels.Tag to Nature of the Beast 09x01.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	It's Easier To Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, another story based off Nature of the Beast. I just cannot help myself with that episode, Michael’s emotions just empower something deep within me.   
> This one is very different to the last one I wrote, FYI. This was the vibe; I never kill a vibe when I’ve got a good ball rolling. Anyways, Enjoy my loves!   
> Danni.

** It’s Easier To Be Alone **

When the door to his hospital room opens, he expects to see Rachel or Gibbs come through his door again, but it’s neither of them. No, it’s Ziva. Her hand is gripping to the door handle of his room and in her other palm he sees one of his gym bags. He can see by the rise and fall of her chest that her breath is heavily, panicked. Seeing her like this is still new to him but since Franks death he knows Ziva isn’t the same woman. Something changed in her.

Her eyes are holding his and they just stare at each other. He wants to say something but he doesn’t know what. He also knows he’s been saying too much stuff he shouldn’t with Rachel, he doesn’t want something to slip passed his lips with Ziva. The potential for things to go wrong with her was high. He couldn’t risk it. He didn’t want to speak.

He didn’t want her to know the secrets in his mind and right now he was so vulnerable.

She steps into the room and he flinches, thinking she’s about to throw the bag at him or yell because she’d asked him to look after himself and clearly, he hadn’t.

_Please._

She doesn’t do any of those things, she just walks up to his bed and softly places his bag down by his feet. Her hands fidget nervously with the zip on the bag, her eyes breaking away from his for the first time.

“Waking up to three missed calls from Gibbs, I thought the worst” she whispers. No anger in her voice, no this was something far different. He really doesn’t want to speak, it’s too dangerous. He’ll say something he cannot take back.

_The complexities of your relationship with Agent David._

He watches her take a deep breath and she flexes her hand at the zip, like she’s trying to keep her hand busy because she wants to touch something. He thinks maybe she wants to punch him; he’d deserve it he’s sure. Out of all the people in the team he had to leave out on this mission, she was the one he had the most regrets about keeping out. The last few months he’d wanted more than anything to let her in, let her help him.

Her hand stops flexing, like she’s given up fighting her urges, but when he braces for the punch it doesn’t come. Her hand on his bare leg is soft and the caress of her fingers tightens his heart. Her hand is like fire on his skin and he suddenly realised that this whole time he’d been in the hospital the one thing he was desperate for was touch. Comfort.

Because he was undoubtedly broken.

Her thumb runs along his calf and he wonders if she notices the longer, she touches him the firmer she is gripping onto him. Like she was scared if she didn’t hold onto him, he’d slip from her fingers.

Her eyes lift to his and when they do her eyes are shimmering with unshed tears. God, he wants to say something, but he cannot. Why was she in so much pain? He thought seeing her would make it all better but seeing the tears in her eyes make him feel worse. He’s done this to her. He’s caused her this pain.

This is why he’s always held her at a distance, this is why he has a wall with her. To protect her, to protect him. Since the day he realised he was falling in love with this woman he’s tried to protect them both with that wall, to keep out the pain.

It’s easier for him to be alone because that way he’d never lose her. She’d still be his partner and he wouldn’t risk her if their attempt at a relationship didn’t work. That’s why he’d never taken it further, never risked a chance to kiss her or tell her how he really feels. There was so much to lose if it went wrong. He’s so afraid of losing her and by the way a tear runs down her cheek as her eyes flicker to his vest with the bullet in the centre, he thinks that maybe she’s just as afraid to lose him.

“I only wore it because your voice flashed in my mind about looking after myself” his voice was shaky and he wants to slap himself for speaking. It’s going to get him in trouble. But he cannot stare up at her looking like this without talking. He will not let her cry over him. He’s still here after all.

She turns back to him and the look she gives him scares him. It’s almost as if his words upset her further. Like if she hadn’t of said anything to him, he wouldn’t have worn it, and they both know what the result would have been if that was the case.

She steps closer to him then and she’s at his hip now. Bringing her hand up next to the graze on his forehead he watches the way she frowns, her forehead creasing together as she accesses him.

“Don’t ever do that to me again” she breathes, forcing out her words. Her voice sounds just as shaky as his. Being faced with the honesty of how close he had been to dying is suddenly raw for her, like it had been for him when he sat on his hospital bed and traced his fingers over the bullet in his vest.

“I can’t make that promise Ziva” he whispers. He cannot make such a promise and she damn well knows it. Because in their job anything could happen. Another tear slips from her eyes and he watches it fall down her cheek. This new Ziva, she’s different. She never used to let him see her cry but now she’s breaking down in front of him.

But maybe she’s not the only one who has changed lately. And maybe after he almost died, he should start thinking about how much he is losing by not telling her he loves her.

“Anthony DiNozzo you better make that promise right now” she presses out. Her voice is rough and heavy. He’s scared to let her down because he sees just how hard she is taking this and suddenly he hates to think how she will feel if he doesn’t make it next time.

She never uses his full name.

His throat closes up when her hand runs into the side of his hair. They don’t touch like this, they never do. But he’s letting her in like he should have years ago. Because right now he needs her because he’s broken. Maybe she’s broken too. He closes his eyes at the sensation of her fingers lightly stroking his temple.

He suddenly realises why she all but fell into his arms and crumbled at his touch that time in the elevator after Mike died not so long ago. His touch was grounding, just like hers is right now.

“I promise” he lets the words slip and he struggles to breathe for a moment. He hopes he never has to disappoint her on that promise. His eyes are still closed when he hears his door open and he’s thankful that Ziva doesn’t move away from him. Her hand slides down his neck and settles on his shoulder as he feels her turn to face whoever came in the room.

“I was wondering when someone would be taking him home” Rachel’s voice fills his ears. He opens his eyes to see the sister of his older partner looking at them both. Clearly, she’s assumed that Ziva is the one taking him home. She is very good at her job after all and he wonders if his _complexities_ with Ziva are that damn obvious to this woman.

“He does not like hospitals, home will be better for him” Ziva states, because she does know him better than anyone after all and there was definitely nothing complex about that. He feels the way her thumb strokes the skin at his neck and he has to will himself not to close his eyes at the touch. She has that way with him, relaxing him with a simple movement.

He watches Rachel smile softly, clearly with a remark on her lips about the two of them but Tony is grateful when she keeps it to herself. He cannot face that conversation right now. Not here, not like this. He’d avoided that conversation with Ziva for years, he wasn’t about to fall under the pressure of almost dying.

He can’t, right? He’s in love with her and no matter how much it destroys him he can never tell her.

“He is cleared to go but the doctor wants him monitored for at least twenty-four hours” Rachel explains then, finally giving him a rest on all her questions. His brain had been rattled enough. He goes to protest about him needing to be looked after but Ziva is quick to speak over him.

“He will not leave my sight” she informs Rachel and the older woman is smiling some more. He doesn’t miss the flicker in her eyes directed at him. Because she _knows_ after all, and yeah Ziva is a hot chick with a gun. If this was any other situation he might have laughed.

Rachel offers to help Ziva get him to her car. Rachel carries his bag that Ziva had brought in while Ziva almost carries half his weight when she tucks herself perfectly under his arm. He can’t help but think to himself as they look after him and ferry him to Ziva’s car that maybe, just maybe it’s easier not to be alone.

That he needs these people in his life as much as he tells himself he doesn’t. Forget what his head tells him, maybe his heart is right for once.

* * *

She gets him home in one piece and decides he needs a hot bath because he still has dirt and sweat on him and he needs to soak, relax. He tries to protest the motion but when she threatens to strip him naked and put him in their herself, he does as he’s told. And yeah, he smiles a little at the thought of him trying to hold his ground against her when she’s in a strongly domestic mood.

This is why he loves her. One of the many reasons.

He hasn’t been in the bath long when she comes in, a soft knock announcing her presence. She’s carrying a few things in her hands and he knows he’s naked, but neither of them really care about things they’ve seen before.

She hands him a hot mug and he sniffs it, green tea. When he pulls a face, she clucks her tongue at him.

“It is good for you, just drink it” she states and he watches her kneel down next to the bath and she starts putting something in his bath water. He pulls another face and squirms at the strange thing she puts in the water, this time she just chuckles lightly.

“Would you just relax, it is ginger. It will help with headaches” she explained as she dips her hand into the water and stirs gently. He was a little spooked out and suddenly wondered if Mossad taught witchcraft potion making.

“Where did you get all this stuff?” he asked, because he definitely didn’t own green tea or ginger, or much else in his cupboards for that matter.

“I went to see Mrs Hill down the corridor, she was more than happy to lend some supplies” she informed him and he smiled a little at that. Ziva and his old neighbour always were very chatty when they crossed paths. Funnily enough, Tony always saw a little bit of Ziva in the older woman with the plants she grew on her balcony and the soft opera music Tony hears playing from Mrs Hill’s apartment on occasion.

“Of course you did” he chuckled. For the first time today, he was suddenly relaxing. Maybe Ziva was right and he needed this bath. Or maybe it was her, like this, caring for him. Maybe it was just everything about Ziva. The way she was looking at him right now, stirring his bath water for him while he sat there naked and resting his broken body, his broken soul.

She lifted her hand out of the water then, her eyes on him were soft. She ran her fingers into the side of his hair, caressing him like she had in the hospital. The warm water and the smell of ginger mixed with the beauty of her was enough to make his heart strings pull hard in his chest. Because when she looked at him like _that,_ he wondered why he’d never told her how much he loves her.

Because surely, she wouldn’t do all this for McGee?

He’s known for a long time that she probably loves him too, especially when she does things like this. This was more than partners, more than friends. He knows, oh how he knows. But he can’t. He still can’t. No matter how close he was to death he couldn’t put this on her, because he didn’t want to risk losing her. He wouldn’t survive. Because if he lost her in his life, he would _really_ be alone.

He’s felt that before, like he was never getting her back. Twice actually. And that was far too many occasions for one lifetime already. He couldn’t do it a third time. It’s why he let her try to love Ray, why he tried to find love himself with EJ. But he knows for him he will never find love anywhere else. No one but _her_ , it’s been like that for a long time now. But he can’t tell her all he wants is _her_. He sighs and closes his eyes while her hands sooth him further.

He could have this touch everyday if he just told her how he feels.

He also told himself he’d made this decision for a reason, so he didn’t lose her and that it’s easier to be alone if it meant she was still there. Because she’s so much more of a rock for him in life than he really thinks she knows. But when he continues to feel her touch and the fact she is right here looking after him, maybe she does know this is where he needs her. Right by his side.

It’s been a long day and for hours he thought he’d killed someone. He was so blurred and his mind was lost. The pressure he puts on the thoughts in his head day in, day out probably hadn’t helped. He’s sick of the way he feels. He couldn’t remember the last time he wasn’t stressed out and his mind wasn’t full of ten thousand secrets. He doesn’t like being this jumbled, but since she walked into his life, he cannot remember the last time he was really relaxed.

Things were easier when he didn’t know what love felt like.

He’s wasted so much time pretending he doesn’t care for her the way he truly does, but it feels safer this way. Like neither of them will get hurt this way. He let her in, but it wasn’t his choice. She developed herself a home in his heart. He never thought someone in his life could hold him up on two feet and break him all in the same way. But maybe that’s his own fault, keeping her at bay. Swallowing his feelings for her.

But he knows he’s not the only one that does it. He sees the way she does exactly as he does. It’s like an unspoken tale between the two of them, they both know it’s safer this way. But life isn’t safe, not in their line of work. His experience last night was a direct testament of that reality. So why, why not just tell her he loves her?

What if he’d died last night and never got the chance to tell her how he feels?

He swallows the sudden lump in his throat and tries to ignore the feelings swirling in his mind. All he wants to do is focus on the way her hand runs through his hair, her nails scratching slightly like he was her big kitty cat, and yes right there, scratch that spot please. The way the warm water drops from her fingers and slides down his neck.

He feels her hand move and hears it touch the water. He’d never found silence like this peaceful until he’d met her. He’s only calm in the silence when she’s around, it’s almost like she guides him in the darkness, the silence. She’s his beacon of hope. Her hand touches his head again and with it comes a handful of warm water. It sooths down his hair, his back. He can’t help himself when a content sigh slips from his lips and he almost drops his tea in the water.

Her hand drifts through his hair and she repeats this, water, stroke. Water, stroke. Scratch. God this made his heart hurt at how good she makes him feel, how content he is under her touch. How calming she is with him. how loving.

Why was it again that he kept in the safety of being alone? This, this makes him never want to be alone.

“I’m sorry” he suddenly whispers. He doesn’t actually know why he says it, but it comes out. He knows talking is still dangerous, but right now he’s decided that maybe things should be different. Because everything is hazy right now and all he can see is Ziva, and that’s all he wants to ever see. She feels like such a gift. And if he never tells her how he feels, maybe he’ll still lose her. He doesn’t want to risk that. Not after last night. He’s not getting any older.

Her hand stills in his hair but she doesn’t pull away from him. He opens his eyes to see her half leaning into the water and watching him with peaceful eyes. Like she was observing something she adored with great fondness. One hand was swirling in the water just above his chest and the other still scratching the side of his hair. He likes this change between them, the freedom of touch.

“What are you sorry for?” she asks, lips curling into a gentle smile. Yeah, it did look like she loved him right now. This is the way the girls look at the boys they love in all his movies, he’s not that stupid, is he?

“Everything I guess” he shrugs, suddenly feeling nervous. He was sorry for so much but where was he supposed to start? She watches him closely and he guesses if there was any time to tell her it all, it was now while he was broken, naked in his tub while she coddled him back into the strong man he walks into work every day. 

“Sorry for scaring you last night. Sorry for the last seven years of pretending and lying. Sorry for… sorry for being too much of a coward to ever tell how important you are to me” he’s out of breath and he chokes on the last words. He puts his tea on the side of the tub and brings his hand down on hers, intertwining their hands in the water.

He’s not surprised to see she wasn’t expecting those words, because she too hides from the truth. But he’s had enough. He waits quietly as she jumbles with her words because she really wasn’t prepared for _that_. Her hand in his clings back so she’s not running from him, he guesses that’s a start.

“You never have to tell me for me to know how much you care Tony” she whispers back. her hand in his hair strokes some more and he finds himself leaning into it. He turns his head and her hand stills when he presses his lips against her wrist with a kiss.

“But I should. There are so many things you deserve to hear that I’ve always wanted to say but… but I’ve always been too afraid to tell you” his lips brush her skin as he speaks and when he turns to look at her he’s faced with that open woman who’s new to him. The one who now has a shimmer in her eyes. God, he loves her.

“You have not been the only one who has been afraid to say these things” she clarifies. He knew, of course, because he knows her. But hearing those words, her confirming that yes, she’s been just as stupid as him, it was a weight on his heart he didn’t know he’d been holding on to.

He leans forward in the bath, the water sloshing around in the tub and he’s sure it’s getting all over his floor and half on her. But it seems like neither of them give a damn right now. The world could end and he wouldn’t stop this. The world was probably going to end at this, because it had been waiting so long for them to get their shit together.

Seven damn years.

His hands both end up in the side of her curls, framing her face and he’s as close as he can be without jumping out of the tub. His warm wet thumbs stroke her cheeks and he doesn’t take his eyes from hers.

“I can’t promise you I will be the best man in the world or that if I tell you things this is going to be easy. But I’m so tired of pretending, I’m tired of being afraid. I’m tired of being alone and after all these years, I know you’re the only one that will fill that empty space for me” his voice is horse and this was so _hard_ , but at the same time he’s spilling his heart to her and it kind of feels good. Like finally, he can relax. Finally, he’s not stressed with all the secrets being trapped in his head.

At his words a tear falls down her cheek. For a second his heartrate races at the thought of rejection but then a soft smile is on her lips and he’s holding onto hope that as well as her sad tears, she’s willing to let him see her happy tears now too.

“I do not want to be afraid anymore, not of this. You are the only person who has ever stood by me and never failed to have my back. it has always been you Tony, as much as I tried to tell myself for years that it wasn’t the case” she stated, her eyes were glassy but on the last words she choked out a laugh. He started laughing too. Because he’d tried to tell himself that for years too.

While they laughed, he was naked in his tub and she was dressed but half soaked in his bathwater, he leant over and kissed her.

_It was inevitable._

Her lips were soft, softer than he remembered them being all those years ago. But then again this wasn’t hot, flirty undercover Tony and Ziva. This was the two of them with so much between them, so much loss, anger, happiness, care, love. This was _them_. Kissing.

He pulls her closer and she kisses him back, she’s leaning over the tub now and her hands are around his shoulders. The water splashes between them and she breaks the kiss with a _giggle_ as she looks down at her soaked clothing.

“I guess I could have timed this situation better” he smiles at her, trying not to laugh. He feels so light and carefree and it’s like everything that has been weighing him down all these years is suddenly lifted. He never really realised just how much weight his love for her held him down.

She rolls her eyes at him and laughs, but stands. He almost thinks she’s going to disappear to gather more towels when her hand goes to the bottom of her shirt, the top of her pants. She’s suddenly getting naked and he basks in the beauty of her. god, was she always this stunning? That was something he was _absolutely_ sure of.

“Make some room” she smiles down at his bold stares as she steps into the tub between his legs. He shuffles back a bit and his hands glue to her thighs as soon as they are in reach. He never wants to let go, not now he knows he can touch. That she wants this too. that maybe they could be together and things won’t break down. That they would be okay and there never was anything to really be afraid of.

His hand trail up her naked rear and across her back as she seats herself between his legs, lying back against his chest. He sighs, a heavy content sigh and wraps his arms around her stomach drawing her closer to him. Why did he think it was easier to be alone? Easier than this?

“I love you” he whispers into her half-wet hair, against the shell of her ear. It could have waited, him telling her those words. But it had been far too long already and at this point he doesn’t care. She needs to know just how serious he is and there’s no lie in those words, there’s no pretending. Those have been the words lost in his mind about her for years now. He’s tried to resist it but he’s not going to be afraid any longer.

She’s let him in now and he’s not stepping back, he’s giving her his all and if it scares her was she truly aware of just how much he needs her?

_I couldn’t live without you, I guess._

She stills at his words and he doesn’t blame her. It’s only the second time he’s ever said them to a woman before and it’s not a word that’s easy for him. He knows that many of the people that have probably uttered those words to her probably never meant them, that those words normally are brandished as a lie to her. He would never do such a thing; he knows she knows that.

But she’s softening in his arms when the words soak into her and her hands are wrapping around his on her skin. She grips onto him tight with those strong, powerful hands.

“I love you too” she returns. Her words are quiet and just as hard for her to utter. He wonders how long she’s known? Was it as long as him?

_If you believe in that kind of thing._

He pulls her close and presses his lips to her neck like its where they’d always belonged and he’d done it a thousand times. He knows if anything he will do it a thousand times before he lets another bullet scare him, before it’s too late. After everything in the last forty-eight hours, he’s finally realised with the weight lifted off his heart simply by the woman that cared enough to pick up his broken pieces, that it’s not easier to be alone.

Not when you have someone who makes it easier to pick up the pieces, simply because they love you and always have.


End file.
